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User blog:THEJJRAT/Poopertron V Satan: Repercussions of Evil
Decessit Vita Patris The Story Prologue The year was 2014, two years after the destruction of Vikkel'shikkel'ting and the death of Pooperton Pizzaroni. After the daring adventure that saved the universe from the Mad Pooper's reign of terror, many of Pooperton's pizza lords went on to have successful lives, Ron Jeremy taking Pooperton's mantle, Captain America from Earth-697064 becoming a famous talk show host, Big Smoke reclaiming his criminal empire and later indulging in the dark arts, Bill Wilson founding the Discountvengers, and J.R. Sprinkleworth creating a semi-underrated podcast with Feathersword and the cowboy. Ainsley Harriott mysteriously vanished after the battle, rumored to have taken to North Korea in order to train the physical manifestation of the article McDonald's Mighty Wings: Moist, firm and the best thing on the menu for whatever reason. Mitchell Shephard, however, had something.... different in mind. After witnessing Pooperton battle Matilda, and especially after seeing his ability to easily travel into the omniverse, he knew putting that Pooperton pubic hair collection to good use would be a good investment. Thus began Project Vito's Pizza; a project intended to mass produce clones of Pooperton. Clones would be placed in Resistance spaceships all over LLCC-44, allowing them to plan attacks on Combine-inhabited universes and easily go back and forth between universes. If there were any, that is. Mitchell only had 339 pubic hairs. 338 clones went insane days after being cloned. Mitchell intended to clone the last hair, but alas, some dumbass intern accidentally dropped the pube in the cloner and ruined everything. Except.... that pube was the perfect pube. The most refined, delicate pube, that contained all the right bits of DNA. This clone was the only one that even came close to stable. It was the one. While they could've cloned this one, they didn't, because he was born with a letter in his mouth; "Don't clone this guy, if you do it'll destroy the universe and give me fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva. Yours truly, God." Dr. Mothguy said they should've cloned him anyway, but Mitchell kidnapped him in his sleep and force fed him prosciutto for several hours in a damp, dark tunnel somewhere in Detroit. Mitchell raised this clone like a son, naming him Poopertron Pizzaroni, training him to be a general of the Resistance. He hoped to get Vito to train Pizzaroni in his pizza ways, but he mysteriously vanished five months earlier, his pizzeria closed and turned into a shopping mall/asylum for the criminally insane. When Poopertron turned mentally 20, Mitchell promised to let him coat the starbase in pizza ingredients and have him bake it in a giant oven; a modified Combine dyson sphere. In an attempt to stop this downright stupid waste of resources, Dr. Mothguy spent hours finding some sort of excuse to kick the clone out; and he found one. After stealing one of Poopertron's pubes while he slept, Dr. Mothguy gave the pube to an officer of the Intergalactic Llama Police. They determined that the pube belonged to an apparently unborn child from Earth-91882, a child who was destined to become the Mad Pooper and join Earth-420's Mad Pooper as her apprentice. Upon leaking this horrifying revelation to all of the Resistance, Poopertron was exiled for being a threat to the multiverse, and was only spared execution because of his status as Resistance ensign. Mitchell left the Resistance with his son, disgusted by the fact that the Council could even show that uptight shreknoose even an attosecond of their time. And then more stuff happened. Hell on Earth Three days after Mitchell and Poopertron left the starbase, they left to Washington D.C. because Mitchell personally knew the Big Washy, a sentient molten ball of nickel hiding under the capital, and it bought him a house hidden in the bushes near the White House. They had temporarily taken up residences in Wolf's Johickley Bob, a bed and breakfast run by the infamous Payday gang member Ulf Andersson. Pizza and Mitchell were discussing the weather while they ate deep fried medic bag-wrapped ion cannons, the finest dish on the menu, and discussed how they could live in the new house without the President noticing. Meanwhile, the citizens of Washington were lined up on the streets, watching some kind of spectacular affair happening in the air. A huge, circular red cloud was forming in the sky, red lightning crackling among the clouds as news helicopters rushed to get footage. A few units of Mobile Task Force Delta Zero dashed across the rooftops, appearing invisible to the helicopters above them. The Foundation had detected traces of hume energy six minutes before the cloud even showed up, and were scrambling to get the situation contained. They were even considering flooding the air with amnestics if it lasted for more than an hour. 11, 12, 13, and 14 landed on the roof of Shrek's Spectacular Pudding Factory, promptly getting out their equipment. 11 prepared the anchor while 12 and 13 placed the Scranton transmitters, in case that portal was spitting out any reality benders. "11, you got a trace on that puller?" asked 13, one of 15 genetically modified supersoldiers created to be intelligent, agile, and not to mention fast. Perfect for last minute situations like these. Several other task forces were on their way due to the possible XK-class end of the world/SK-class dominance shift scenarios of DJ's situation, but they were vital to the operation; they had one of the three anchors meant to close the portal. "Yeah. Planting the Pepperoni. Should have this wrapped up in a few minutes. Let's just hope Delta and Zeta get here in time." 11 replied, planting the oval device to the floor of the roof. "Wait... Something's not right. It isn't attaching to the puller.. Hold on." 11 muttered, tapping away on the device's keyboard. "Hurry up, 11. I don't want to find out what's waiting behind that thing." 12 said, staring up into the overwhelming red spiral. "Um... There might be a problem. These energy readouts aren't matching up with hume. It's something else. I've.... I've never seen anything-" Suddenly, a red bolt struck 11 in the chest, the souls of the damned screeching as they delved into his body. He hit the rooftop, limp. "11!" 12 yelled, running to his aid while 13 and 14 stood around like assholes. She put two fingers to his neck, his pulse completely absent. Just like my father. "He's.... he's dead." 12 muttered, before the soldier suddenly caught her neck. In the confusion, 13 and 14 both tried to pry him off of her, 13 chanting an ancient ogre body prying spell and finally pulling him away as he slashed and growled at the soldiers. "this is rustling my jimjams" 14 growled, just before knocking out him with the butt of his shotgun. 13 pulled off his mask, his skin pale and grey with strange growths forming in his skin. And not to mention the extra set of teeth that had grown on his tongue. "Jesus, what kind of sexually transmitted disease is this?" 13 muttered, spooked to the bone by what he was seeing. Then, a shockwave came. A loud, muted noise shook the entire capital as the sky became blood red. 11's energy reader exploding as a wave of energy swept the city. Citizens on the streets began changing, their skin warping and their bones mending as spirits took control of their body, appearing as husks or beehive wax or a crumbled up McDonald's bag or something. While chaos ensued on the ground, it started to look as if somebody cut the sky, a crack forming across the Earth's atmosphere. And then it opened. And then it happened. What a bizarre fucking line that was. Legions of horned beasts poured out of the crack like maggots, flooding onto the streets and indiscriminately murdering anything that wasn't hellborn. As the chaos unfolded, 12 held onto the golden cross draped around her neck, watching as the portal spat out thouands of unholy abominations. The Four Horsemen rode into battle alongside Demon Lord Zeraxos and Al'Gorro, third lieutenant of the Underworld, flooding entire neighborhoods in lava as they continued their demonic purge. They took 11 and left, hoping to catch up with another task force and evacuate into a nearby site. All was lost. The streets were flooded in demons and zombies, demonic starfighters blotting out the sky as the city became a warzone. As soon as Earth realized what was going on, the streets were flooded (again) with the military, space marines, GenSec, and ZEALs. Lots of flooding going on today. In a matter of minutes, several S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarriers arrived, dropping off the Avengers, the Justice Experience, the Cadre K, the Force of July, the Discountvengers, the Freedom Brigade, the X-Men, the Sense of Right Alliance, and the Justice League. Even the Payday gang, the WRLE, the RPC Authority, and the Milky Way Resistance were joining the fight after things got heated. SCP-2117 hovered overhead, dropping off MTF Nu-7 ("Hammer Down") and MTF Epsilon-9 ("Fire Eaters") troops. "So, have you seen Ron Jeremy's latest magnum opus?" asked Shrek Roiland, a clone of Shrek and Justin Roiland, to Mitchell and Poopertron. "You mean Star Knights IV: War of the Old Titties? It was a pretty bene, but Star Knights III: Return of the Sexually Transmitted Diseases was much better in terms of story, in my opinion." Poopertron admitted. "I mean... I don't really watch that kind of stuff. I mean, I do, but Jeremy's movies have been starring a lot of buff hairy orcs and ogres and stuff lately. I mean, I'm not xenophobic or anything, I just really don't like the color green. It... it reminds of things." Mitchell said, blankly starring into the distance as the memories flooded back into his mind. Black Mesa. 1954. Marines. Green camo. Aliens. Aliens everywhere. Green aliens. Green alien blood. Explosions, green alien organs. The scientists. Murder. Portals. Green portals. Dick pains. The crowbar. Freeman. His face. Fucked up. He snapped out of it, however, when a prowler was thrown through the window by Superman. "SWEET MAMA JESUS" Mitchell said, shards of glass getting all over their food as the prowler got back up and scrambled across the table, only to get killed by Superman's heat vision to the face. This caused only more turmoil, as Carl Tuesday, world renowned resurrectionist and lesser known member of the Avengers, resurrected the prowler because it was actually his husband. Superman and Carl began an epic battle, because Superman was a dick and wanted to indiscriminately kill all the demons and Carl disagreed, which led to even more destroyed buildings and the tax money of oil companies. "Mama mia!" Poopertron said gravely, as Mitchell grabbed his gun and externally screamed. He was so spooked that his skin was literally screaming. Poopertron slapped Mitchell across the face. "SNAP OUT IF IT PAPA, WE GOTTA SALVA IL MONDO!" Pizza yelled, doing a double advanced Italian finger thing to get the point across. Mitchell nodded, cocking his M16 and roaring a mighty roar as he ran out the window and into battle. Pizza followed suit, and they were soon battling demons on the street, Pizza using his pizza powers to the best of his ability. They mostly faced hordes of imps and other lesser demons, while the superheroes fought all the cyberdemons and the ones with names. Some local heroes then joined the fight, including the Thunderer and the DC Guardian. Captain America and Mirielle Duplessis were battling Zarathos, while Spider-Man and Shrek were dealing with Blackheart and the Internal Hulk. They were nearly overwhelmed by the sheer number of demons, but the heavy hitters like Shrek and the Hulk just kept plowing through. As Mitchell and Pizza fought side by side, they noticed that more and more powerful demons started coming as they culled the weaker ones. In the sea of corpses came several powerful demonics, including the Dweller-in-Darkness, Morningstar, and an animeverse Agaliarept. The Dweller, a blue skinned cthuloid who dwelled from Hell, threw giant balls of fire at them, but Pizza deflected them with his nose made of nickel. The deflected fire ball engulfed the Dweller, the Great Old One collapsing as he burned. He would later be found and rescued by Hastur, which would turn into a Darth Vader-esque situation. Mitchell shat himself in the very presence of Agaliarept, trembling in fear as the two dimensional being prepared to strike him down, before Pizza turned her clothing into an aggressive man eating pizza. Agaliarept freaked the fuck out and opened a portal back to the Animeverse, fleeing as she was chased by her own clothing. Morningstar struck Pizza from behind, sending him flying into a web Spider-Man had created. "HEY THAT'S MY WEB" Spider-Man yelled, enraged by the blatant mistreatment of his web. "SCUSA" Pizza apologized, before eating the web and projectile vomiting all over Morningstar. She instantly fainted, as she was deathly allergic to webs. Pizza put the demon into his pocket, since her armor looked cool and all. Mitchell was rocking back and forth on the forth, traumatized by what he had seen this day, before his hands were suddenly bound. "WHAT" Pizza yelled, as they were engulfed in a chamber of spooky red smoke. Mitchell was bound in handcuffs made of flesh and bone, making him nauseous, as several beings appeared before them. It was none other than the Demon Lord himself. The Absorber of Worlds and the Son of the Morning. Satan. Alongside him were his generals,Satan-616 of an alternate conquered Hell, Satannish, Agaliarept, Mordred, and even his own son. But, curiously, there was one Pizza did not recognize. One never described in the Resistance Codex. A hooded figure with an aura of black smoke escaping from his clothing, wielding the same staff the Little Caesar's guy did. "You!" Pizza yelled, pointing at Satan. "Yes, me!" the narcissistic fuck cheered, before clearing his throat. "You impressed me with your actions in Vikkel'shikkel'ting, Pooperton, but you did cost me my finest assassin..." "I am not Pooperton!" Poopertron screamed. "..... You can drop the charade. I know you're him. I can smell it. Taste it. There's that same fire that burns in your center, that same girthy soul, that same burning hatred in your voice... Hell, you remind me of when I was an angel." Satan said, slithering around the chamber and weasingly coiling around Pizza's body as his heads watched him. "But... that is not why you are here. I try to leave my personal grudges at the door, I must apologize." Satan hissed, coiling back into a ball on his throne, leaving Pizzaroni complexed. "Then why.... Am I here?" asked Poopertron. "Well, you hold some... sentimental value to my apprentice, here. I promised him that we would eventually... meet." Satan said, as devilish smiles creeped along his faces. Poopertron's heart sank as he looked toward the hooded figure, who was staring right back at him. "No. No, no, not you. It can't be you. Mitchell... Mitchell is my father! You're supposed to be dead!" Pizzaroni yelled, further pointing at the hooded man. "No, Pooperton. I am your father." said the apprentice, pulling back his hood and revealing that he was none other than Vito Mario Luigi Marco Alessandro Giuseppe Giovanni Vincent Daniel Roberto Andrea de Pizzaroni. Mitchell's eyes went wide, and he fully accepted that he was probably fucked beyond repair. Poopertron's expression became blank, his moustache migrating to Flufferia and being replaced by an omnipotent celestial moustache named Steven Hawknuts, who had thousands of microscopic hawk testes inside of him. What a nut. Vito smirked as he watched his son break, an orb of demonic magic boiling in his hand as he prepared to strike down Mitchell and take his son as his apprentice, until.... "No." Poopertron said, surprising the ankle wounds out of Vito. "What?" Vito hissed, his corrupted golden eyes darting towards Pizza. "Don't you want to rule with your father? Don't tell me you've gained some sort of bond with this... this complete freak of nature." "I was not born in your oven, Vito. I was born in a test tube. You didn't raise me. You never hosted a birthday party every couple of days because I mentally aged faster than normal humans. You can't just show up halfway through my life and think I'm going to be all excited and shit. Sorry, but your son is morto, rompicoglioni." Poopertron said, creating a sword made of hardened pizza sauce and, moving like a blur, cutting Mitchell free. Poopertron shot a stream of boiling pizza sauce at his "father", the hooded figure screeching in agony as he collapsed and writhed on the floor, Poopertron and Mitchell escaping into the smoke as Satan laughed. Pizza found himself in a hall populated by Hell Guards and Barons of Hell, realizing that they were in Hell itself. "Holy shit...." Mitchell muttered as he pulled out his pulse pistol, staring into the halls of the cathedral. Bone, teeth and metal seemed to be favored by Satan's architects. They couldn't stand around admiring the twisted place, however, as the demons soon attacked them after realizing their presence. Pizza's sword began boiling hotter than than the Sun as he sliced through the demons. The power of the sun in the palm of his hand. Mitchell disintegrated demons with his dark energy-tipped ammo, which burst into tiny dark energy orbs upon hitting an enemy. As more and more demons flooded the halls, they were becoming tired, Pizza's arms becoming rubberlike as he kept on slicing. Until a hell knight made fun of Mitchell's scars, leading Mitchell to scream like a banshee and headbutt the knight so hard he turned the demon into a portal back to Earth. They were dropped off near the outskirts of the demon ridden Washington, watching as American tanks rode in with an army of marines and deathclaws, TIE fighters soaring past them in the sky. Mitchell picked up an M249 from a dead marine, just before the horde of demon reinforcements came out of the crack. Poopertron prepared his sword as the demons immediately overwhelmed the marines, roaring in Italian as he Naruto ran into the demon horde. His sword grew six feet longer as he rip and tore until it was done. Mitchell followed him in his crusade, gunning down countless demons. They soon came across a hulking cyberdemon, but it was no match for Mitchell, who tore the demon's mechanical arm off and shoved it up his ass, rendering the demon immobile. Poopertron then swallowed a purple Quad Damage orb, argent energy coursing through his veins as he tore through demons like stringy cheese. He grabbed a chainsaw from a sawcubus, sawing it in half and grabbing the lower half of the demon, slipping into the legs like a pair of pants. This disturbed the other demons, who were soon drenched in boiling hot pizza sauce, their skin peeling away as the air was filled with their terrifying screeches of agony. Mitchell gunned down hordes of demons with his M249, roaring like a bull frog as he defended Earth's honor for the sake of humanity. Pizza and Mitch were forced to back into a mountain of demon skulls, named Mount Demon Skullz, but this didn't matter; for they had the high ground. Poopertron grabbed a bull demon and tore it's head off, hollowing out the demon's corpse via sucking the organs out of the hole where its head used to be, filling it with pizza sauce, crushed red pepper, garlic salt, pizza dough, mozzarella, meatballs, and oregano. He then gave the demon a blessing of the Saucy Ones, turning it into his Pizza Thrall. Mitchell threw a FIM-92 Stinger into the bull demon's hands, the demon giving it a Sinful Superfire Blessing of Heresiarch, just before going to town on his fellow demons with rapid fire missile fire. Several green chaos serpents and belphegor climbed up Mount Demon Skullz, though they were soon turned into cheese statues by Poopertron, rolling off the mountain and crushed several thousand imps who were running in a straight line. "PIZZA, WE NEED TO GET TO HIGHER GROUND! I'M RUNNING OUT OF AMMO AND I WANT A SANDWICH! THERE'S A DEMONIC SANDWICH STORE FLOATING IN THE SKY! IF WE CAN GET THERE, WE CAN EAT SANDWICHES!" Mitchell screamed. "OKAY" Poopertron frowned, before creating a bridge of hardened, rock candy-like pizza sauce that led to the sandwich store. This would later become a famous monument known as the Saucy Bridge of Himdler's Legs, named after the guy who found it, Himdler Leggs. Mitchell, Poopertron, and the bull demon rushed along the bridge, Mitchell shooting it and cracking off a large chunk of it when they got to the sandwich store. Mitchell and Poopertron took a moment to breathe, before they continued into the store. Mitchell noted that some of the windows were made entirely out of fried chicken, which kind of defeated the purpose of windows since all you could see was crust. Crust. It was just... All of it. Crust. It disturbed Mitchell, rubbed him the wrong way in a sense. "Hi, welcome to Chili's" said a Hell Razer behind the counter, who had just walked in. "But the sign says 'Sandwich Store'." Mitchell said, somewhat confused. "That's because we sell sandwiches" "Oh. Well, it's nice of you to supply us humans with nutrition while you invade the planet. I guess." Mitchell said, feeling slightly betrayed. "Yeah. Satan's just a misunderstood guy, that's all. Anyways, what'll it be for you handsome humans?" "Hm. Well, I'll have the Awesome Blossom Petals with Blossom Sauce, the Southwestern Eggrolls, the Crispy Cheddar Bites, the Fresh Guacamole, the Honey-Chipotle Crispers & Waffles, the Crispy Chicken Crispers, the California Turkey Club, the Buffalo Chicken Ranch Sandwich, and a large soda. Hold the soda. I just like collecting soda bottles." Mitchell said, gazing upon the menu and essentially ordering anything that looked even remotely appetizing to him. He mostly ate headcrab and old Combine rations while out on the field, and unhealthy amounts of pizza. It's been years since he ever even dreamt of consuming this kind of fine dining. "You want anything, Pizz?" asked Mitchell. "Yeah... I'll have-a-da the margherita flatbread and the Chili's 1975 Soft Tacos, thank you very much." Pizza said, doing an Italian finger thing as his moustache trembled in hunger. "And you?" asked Poopertron to his bull demon. "Y'all got any, uhhh.... BONELESS fried pickles?" the demon somehow vocalized, despite no longer having a head. "Yes sir. Our imps over at Necro Magna spend years carefully removing the bones from our sentient hell pickles, using the finest machinery souls can buy." said the Hell Razer. "Then I'll have some of thos. Oh, and a Triple Dipper. And a The Boss Burger. And a Southern Smokehouse Burger, and a Sunrise Burger, four hundred Big Mouth Bites, an Alex's Santa Fe Burger, a Chili's Chili Burger, and, uh... You got any slabs of meat?" "Yes." "I'll have some slabs of meat. Oh, and a nice, cool glass of unholy water, if you please." "Alright... Y'all want any argent sauce with that?" the Hell Razer asked. Everybody paused for a moment, Poopertron rubbing his moustache in thought as he stared up into the corner of the heavens. "Yeah, that sounds nice." Poopertron said. "I'll have all of it" said the bull demon. "I'm allergic." Mitchell said. "That's alright, dear. Your orders will be done in just a second." said the Hell Blazer. The three wandered the restaurant for three minutes, as Mitchell wanted the seats that had the cleanest windows that weren't made of fried chicken, and awaited their meal. At first, they had a four hour long discussion about the state of New Jersey's water supply and the newest Team Fortress 2 update, ignoring the chaos outside for just a few precious others. Oh, and war stories and stuff. "So then, this imp was like 'I can take this guy, he's just a dumb bull', and I then threw him into a gore nest! Everything just fuckin' exploded!" the bull demon said, as Mitchell wheezed. His sides were about to go into orbit. "And then Satan was all like 'good job, my boy,' and then he sentenced me to the lava torture domes for 1,000 years! All because I destroyed a gore nest!" "Oh, wow, what a dick." Mitchell said. "I know! There's plenty of dead bodies lying around, why couldn't they just make a new one?!" "Sorry for the wait, boys, the newest chef is a cyberdemon and I had to teach him how to make food with his big, thick metal arms...." said the Hell Razer, giving them their food before teleporting back to the counter. Mitchell coughed as red magic demon dust got in his face, wondering why they didn't outfit their employees with magic nets. Now he's going to get hives and shit. After a few minutes, Mitchell decided to take on the hard problems, just like Phil Bredesen. "So, Pizza... About your dad..." Mitchell coughed, nervously swirling his chicken crisper in his guacamole. Pizza sighed, letting everything from the past hour sink in. "It's fine." "Huh?" Mitchell asked, looking up from his guacamole showdown of crisper's end: dawn of zimbabwe. "Look, I... I don't know who that Vito guy is, but he isn't my papa. I'm not Pooperton, I'm just his Costco knockoff or whatever. I may have his memories, but they don't... they don't mean anything to me." Pizza said, biting into one of his soft tacos. "You're my dad, Mitchell. You raised me, baked my first deep dish pizza, taught me how to rotisserate a houndeye, how to debeak that wild headcrab I wanted when I was mentally nine... All he did was betray me." Mitchell smiled, before one of his eggrolls came to life from all the argent energy and tried to murder him. Mitchell swiftly ate the eggroll, putting a stop to its evil schemes. "yeah that's sweet and all but how the fuck am I supposed to eat my meat" the bull demon fumed, upon learning that one cannot eat without a head. He tried shoving it down the hole where his head was, but he couldn't taste anything. It really sucked. "Oh. Sorry." Pizza said, taking off his toque blanche and pulling out the bull demon's head. He then plopped it back onto his neck, shooting pizza cheese and gorilla glue from his finger tips and lining the sticky liquids around the stump, the head now roughly stuck back onto his body. "big thank" said the bull demon, saying thank you once again in sign language. This kind act soon backfired, however, as the Translucent Big Lord Actomy of Hand-based Language appeared, hovering above the gang's table. "YOU HAVE FORSAKEN ALL OF HAND-BASED LANGUAGE, VILE DEMON, WITH YOUR UNHOLY WAYS! SPEAK NOW! SPEAK NOW OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE, PEASAaAaNT!!" the unnatural deity demanded, sounding much like an enraged Justin Roiland, Mitchell and Pizza cowering in fear as the demon blankly stared at him. As the seconds went by, the deity grew more and more concerned, beads of sweat forming around his cheeks as the demon simply refused to respond. Soon, after four whole minutes of demon-deity staring, the God cried out in agony. He couldn't believe it, but he had been bested. By an inmortal. "YOU DARE NOT SPEAK TO ME, YOU FOUL HELLSPAWN?! CURSE YOU, INMORTAL! CURSE YOU!!! I'LL HAVE YOU COURT MARTIALED FOR THIS, I SWEAR! I'LL DIRECT ALL OF MY COMPLAINTS TO YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER AND THE RED GODDESS HERSELF! I SWEAR! I SWEAR TO ME, I SWEAR TO YOU! REMEMBER ME, YOU PEASAAAAAAAA-" the deity screamed, shaking his fist in the air as he was sucked back into his realm via black hole, defeated by the bull demon. "W-what the fuck was that?" Mitchell squeeked, peaking out from under the table. "Smelled like a good hoss" said the window, causing Mitchell to scream at high capacities. The window screamed in return, Mitchell sobbing as the window licked Mitchell's facial hair. Poopertron shot liquid pizza at the window, instantly murdering the window. They then watched in awe as the window descended into the Spaghettiverse, just as Pooperton did. "How was the meal, boys?" asked the Hell Razer, who was named Ogredisco, if you didn't know. "Delizioso!" "My honey-chipotle crispers were overcooked and the window yelled at me." "I haven't tasted slabs of meat like those since I was just a little pinky." "Glad to hear it." said Ogredisco, winking at them as Mitchell pulled out a tip from his purse. Mitchell slid a slim golden bar, with the symbol of the Universal Union etched into the center, across the table as they got up and left the restaurant. When they went through the revolving restaurant doors made of human flesh and eyeballs, they saw that Washington was completely overrun with demons, hundreds of buildings leveled as an ocean of lava swept through the streets, corpses piling up and being thrown into the lava by imps. Demon spaceships soared overhead, shooting lasers and concentrated beams of lava at both civilians and soldiers. Mitchell clenched his fist. Humans could fight off the Combine when superheroes were barely just a concept in comic books, but they couldn't fight off demons with a bunch of them. He just doesn't like superheroes, so that's why superheroes are a big part of that sentiment he has going on there. He's also sort of wrong, since the Crazy Sues and the time traveling Justice League were a thing back in the 40's, but I guess he just likes to bite the cheese. Which kind of cheese? Parmigiano-Reggiano. Mozzarella on a good day. "Washington is gone. We need to get out of here, regroup with the remnants of the military and figure out a plan." Mitchell said. Pizza nodded, grabbing Mitchell and Golgath (the bull demon, if you didn't know) and attaching them to his body via pizza cheese, jumping to the pizza sauce bridge. He ran in a straight line, being chased by demons as he tried to find an arch-ville. Dr. Sammy Prosciutto, a time traveling UAC scientist and member of the Milky Way Resistance, taught him how to "arch-ville jump". Suddenly, Pizza was shot in the left asscheek by an arch-ville, Pizza performing the ancient technique and being flung across the planet. Habemus Papam "Hi, I'm Phil Bredesen. I said it before, if Satan proposes something good for the humans of Necronessee, I'll give it a try. Maybe two tries, if I'm feeling frisky. But dumping our dead bodies, which could be used to feed our starving imp larvae and human children, into lava? It's something I cannot agree with. If you want the Senate to take on the tough problems, such as the demonic occupation of Earth, vote for me. Vote for the Phil." Mitchell clicked the TV off, as he was hunched over on the couch, trailing his hands down his face. There was a lot to take in, and he knew Pizza had to be taking it especially hard. Mitchell felt lost, with the capital overthrown and the military possessed, the President having announced a country-wide surrender within 14 hours of the Battle for Earth. Washy had probably been turned into a demon weapons factory or something, he was completely cut off from the Resistance, and most of his friends were either dead or zombified. Pizza was the only thing he had left, but he felt that had to be good enough. After Pizza's arch-ville jump, the three landed in Tennessee, breaking into a house of a family killed by demons and claiming it as their own. They went unnoticed by the larger demonic population, via shitty paper demon masks they printed out a few days ago. Golgath put on a cool cyberdemon mask and made himself cardboard robot arms, because of the stigma against lesser demonics like himself. "HELLO YES WOULD YOU LIKE TO BUY A FRESH Insane Kelbim's Fragment PLEASE AND THANK YOU" asked Kaysia, a strange being who crawled out of the couch. "JESUS COW MANGLER" Mitchell screamed, pulling out his wrench and caving in her skull. "big oof" Kaysia whined, mumbling inane nonsense due to the brain damage she sustained from the wrenchful assault. Mitchell, realizing his unforgiveable mistake, lathered healing juice and hitting her head again. This healed her, but in response to Mitchell's previous actions, she casted an Explodiosus spell on Mitchell, making him explode. Blood painted the room as flaps of skin flew everywhere, Poopertron walking into the room with a freshly baked pizza. "the pizzas ready OH MY GOD" Poopertron screamed, vomiting all over the room upon seeing Mitchell's exploded corpse. He collapsed, picking up pieces of Mitchell's skin while moaning and sobbing. "WHY GOD, WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO MY FA-FA-FATHERRRR" Poopertron screamed, Kaysia realizing her unforgiveable mistake and lathering healing juice all over herself and then rubbing Mitchell's blood all over herself, healing Mitchell. She then casted Forgetitosum Allofusm, wiping the two's memories. The newly revived Mitchell, as well as Poopertron, stared blankly at each other. "wasn't I just watching a Phil Bredesen commercial" Adrian asked himself aloud. "why is their vomit all over the place" Poopertron asked. "And who are you and why are you drenched in healing juice and blood" asked Mitchell, pointing at Kaysia. "Why, I'm Kaysia Urnutter, the best trader that ever lived! I'm Shadai's Disciple! Don't tell me y'all never heard of the world's first feminist ertheian icon?" Kaysia explained, utterly bamboozled. "the fuck is an ertheian" asked Poopertron, the bamboozlement mutual. "WHY, ONLY THE BEST POINTY EARED HUMANOID RACE THAT EVER STEPPED FOOT ON THIS GOD FORSAKEN ROCK YOU CALL A PLANET" Kaysia screamed. "ok jeez rude" Poopertron muttered, crossing his arms. "So what exactly are you doing in our house" asked Mitchell. "Because.... I'm a trader.... And I want to sell you things? It isn't that much of an enigma, y'know. Fucking marines..." Kaysia sighed, shaking her head. "Oh, so do you want to join my upcoming rebellion against the demonic invaders? We could use a good merchant or something." "What? No. I've been drowning in coin ever since Satan allowed the purchase of fetus magic crystals and similar satanic merchandise." "Well, it was worth a try." Mitchell pouted, pretending to be hurt, before his eyes burned yellow as he pointed every finger toward the elf. "AOAOOAOAOAO'OOOAOAOAOA SYNNCCCCCC'CCC KAALLALALALOOO'LLAALLAA ESHTROCE!" Mitchell chanted, wiggling his fingers in an uncomfortable manner, Kaysia's expression changing into that of a horrified one. Adrian had casted an Effect Decision spell on her, a trick taught to him by world famous Aztec warlock Leonard Bernstein. Within seconds, she rethought her decision and agreed to join his rebellion. In exchange for jars of thigh sweat. Mitchell was slightly uncomfortable with having a racist capitalist elf as a founding member of the Rebellion, but there was no other choice. "So are we gonna consume this pizza I passionately made with my bare hands or what" asked Poopertron, doing an advanced Italian finger thing in annoyance. They agreed, and began consuming the anchovy pizza with sawcubus blood sauce while watching Öyle Bir Geçer Zaman Ki on the couch. "So, Mr. H.E.C.U man, how exactly do you plan to bring about this rebellion of yours?" asked Kaysia, her soul absorbing the demonic soul energy as she bit into sauce. "Well, I planned to hit up some of my old buddies and possibly regroup with other rebel cells.... But I only just started planning thirty minutes ago." Mitchell said, lathering a pizza slice all over his chest and making whale noises. This was a common tradition of H.E.C.U. marines. "And the name's Mitchell, by the way. Mitchell Shephard." he said, reaching out to shake her hand, Kaysia only staring at his sauce ridden body in disgust. "Well... I can help you there. I've dipped my toes into some more... risque trade. The Gnucci family could help you. Hell's occupation has halted their registration juice business, so they fled to Tennessee to take up the mass production of bamboo doormats." Kaysia said, shivering from Mitchell's saucy antics. "That's a good start. Where are they?" asked Mitchell, Poopertron sobbing as Deniz Yıldız Talaşoğlu betrayed Mete Akarsu, revealing that he was the one dropping the meth into the river. not dead, just really relaxed "In the Gnucci Estate, of course. They moved their entire mansion over here when the invasion hit New York." Kaysia said. "Shoulda known." Mitchell said, snapping his finger. He really should've known. Everybody then ran out the door, Mitchell calling for a taxi. He then got into an epic battle with Punch-A-Bunch, who attempted to punch Mitchell, only for the marine to jump over him and karate chop his left asscheek. "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH" Punch-A-Bunch moaned, anime blush line things appearing across his cheeks, before slapping Mitchell across the face. The sheer force of his slap sent Mitchell flying through the display glass of a shop, the TVs stored inside electrocuting him. Punch-A-Bunch jumped over to Mitchell and beat his face in with supersonic speed, before Steven Rogers of Earth-2301 appeared and snapped Punch-A-Bunch's neck with his thunder thighs. "Wow, thanks for that, Captain America." said Mitchell, recovering from the brutal beatdown. "No problemo" Captain America roared, flexing his huge muscles for about eleven minutes before he did a marathon around the city in search of crime. Then a taxi arrived. Mitchell tore the door off, throwing the imp driver onto the road as they got in the Kaufman Cab and drove off. The demon would later become the Kaufcorpze, a gunslinging vigilante driving around in a taxi and gunning down criminals when they step into his cab. He swore revenge on Mitchell, hiding in the sewers and training his army of sentient volvox barberi. Mitchell drove to the Gnucci mansion, exiting the car as everybody climbed over the gate. Several guards were patrolling the outside, so they had to go sneaky beaky like. Mitchell hid behind the hedges as he made his way to the back door, while Golgath fucking murdered a guard by chomping his head off. "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST" Mitchell yelled, blood and brain matter splattering all over his face as Golgath munched down on the guard's skull like it was rock candy. "GOOHOOHOO" he screamizzled. They were then confronted by a bunch of security guards and a dude with a gun for an arm. "GOOHOOHOOHOO" Mitchell cried, doing a crumpled up JonTron face as they were taken to the brig. After failing to crack the four after a few hours of torture that involved McDonald's ice and a pencil sharpener, Bushwacker took the gang to Ma Gnucci, who was knitting together a universe with her godly powers. "WHO?" asked Ma, adjusting her glasses as she extended her neck like an engineer to get a good look at them. "Some neckbeard soldier cosplayer and his mooks. Killed one of the guards tryin'ta sneak in." Bushwack said, his left arm pointed at Mitchell's head. "WHY ID NEVER" Mitchell said, before getting a backhanded gun slap that almost knocked him out. "WELL THAT'S PRETTY INTERESTING" Ma said. "SHUSHAWAKATAH" said Sheldakiki Bizzlensips, who appeared in a cloud of purple smoke. Gnucci's men promptly opened fire, but bullets just bounced off of his elegant skin. His tongue, the size of a man, escaped from his jaw and grabbed onto seven henchman, morphing into his tongue as his tastebuds absorbed their souls. The henchmen sobbed as they begged to be saved, Bushwacker shooting them out of mercy as a tear dropped down his cheek. Mitchell then escaped from his holographic handcuffs, pulling out his Shnoral, an ancient blade coated in the poison of a sapradan, roaring as he charged the eldritch beast. He drove the sword through his heart, the beast roaring in agony as writhing tentacles shot out of the walls, dragging him back into the depths Hell. "that's a lot of damage" said Bushwacker, impressed. In awe of the absolute damage induction of this lad. "YOU SAVED US FROM THAT VILE DEMON, THANKS NOW YOU'RE IN MY DEBT GET OUT OF MY HOUSE" Ma screamed. She sensed these people brought bad juju. "nah miss we need you to help us organize an armed militia to fight against the demons lol" Mitchell said, smiling like Joji. "What, you think you can just waltz in 'ere and get me to, whaaa, overthrow our new satanic ovahloawds?!" "Yes, I do. Because I have something you don't. Kaysia, what do I have that she doesn't?" asked Mitchell. "O-oh!" Kaysia yipped, fumbling around in her bag until she pulled out a slip of some sorta paper. "He has a Recipe: Helios Stormer (60%)! It's the best in town!" Kaysia said, holding the page up for everybody in the room to see. "GOOD GOLLY MISS MOLLY, A RECIPE: HELIOS STORMER (60%)?! ONLY A HUNDRED OF THOSE ARE SAID TO EXIST IN THA WHOWL ENTIRAH UNIVERSE! IF WE COULD SOMEHOW MASS PWODUCE BOTH THE RECIPE AND THE THING IT DESCROIWBES IN THE PICHTCHA, WE'LL BE FILTHY STINKIN' RICH! THE GNUCCI'S WILL BE BACK IN BUSINESS! YOU'RE HIRED!" Ma Gnucci screamed. "No, you're hired." Mitchell said. "Yeah, whatevah." Ma grumbled. "Bwut fwirst, I got a jowb for yah. To prove your worth, get what I'm sayin? The Palermos and their new mystery don had the same idea as us, and they moved into the neighbah'ood next to us. They're drowning out our business with their stupid spider demon seaweed! Everybody wants the seaweed, nobody wants to buy old ma's bamboo doormats! They gotta get outta our town, and fast!" said Ma, throwing her fist into the hair. The hair of Baldr, her husband. "ok" Mitchell said. Golgath began wandering around while Bushwacker briefed Mitchell on the Palermos, finding himself in Ma's bedroom. To his shock, he saw Fatmagul, a humble young woman from a coastal town, trying to break into Ma Gnucci's safe of rare Zaxby's sauces with a thermal drill. "Hey, aren't you the girl from Fatmagül'ün Suçu Ne?, cult classic Turkish reality television series?" asked Golgath, who was a rather large fan of Fatmagül'ün Suçu Ne?. "Why, yes, indeed. I certainly happen to be." Fatmagul replied, really happening to be. "But I thought you were a humble young woman from a coastal town, not a common thief!" Golgath roared, absolutely mortified by his waifu's behavior. She looked down, tears swelling in her eyes. "I know, I know! What I am doing is terrible, but I don't have a choice. Ever since they cancelled Fatmagül'ün Suçu Ne? in favor of Battle Girls: Time Paradox, I have exhausted all of my funds searching for the men who violated me. I have no other choice than to resort to thievery in order to exact my revenge." Fatmagul sobbed, her words deeply touching Golgath's cold demonic heart. He then puked up a bunch of gold bars and left to eat some leftover lasagne, Fatmagul promising to pay him back as she escaped into the night. Two Swords, A Steve, And A Pizza Place A few hours after the gang were shown to their rooms, Mitchell decided to leave for the Palermos when Poopertron went to bed, sneaking through the window and shit. He knew what the mafia was capable of. He worked personally with John DiFronzo when the Resistance was trying to bag the Combine Mafia back in the 80's, and he was doing all kinds of freaky deaky shit. Vored eight Combine Elites right in front of him, like they were treats on a Sunday afternoon. He didn't want his baby being exposed to that nasty shit. Mitchell drove up to a shoddy Italian restaurant in his Kaufman, the House O' Gnocci. Cozy little place, from what he heard. Home to the mob's weakest link, Gino DeLuca. Maybe he knew where he would find the new don... He loaded his .357 desert eagle and pushed it into its holster, before running to the door and barging into the restaurant, T-posing to establish dominance. Two of Gino's bodyguards ran up to Mitchell, both getting decked by his outstretched arms. Gino downed a shot of Pallini Limoncello as he got up from his table, his two other thugs training their guns at Mitchell. "So who are you supposed to be, soldier boy?" Gino drunkenly snickered, stumbling a bit. "Mitchell Shephard, United States Marines. Any idea where I can find your don?" Mitchell asked, his eyes studying the room as he planned his next move. "Don? Only don I ever knew was Al Palermo, and he was locked up by do-goodah fucks such as yourself. Only Al had a code, and that's what got him smoked out. He didn't kill attractive young men in their 20's. Well, guess what? I'm only into feminine chubby dragon boys." he smirked. "Donnie, Chicci.... Whack his ass. I'm gonna smoke a Toscano out back." Gino said, going out the back as his henchmen opened fire. Mitchell punched the bullets away, pulling out his glock and poppin' them between the eyes. He ran after Gino, before being hit across the back of the head by a blind chef with a baseball bat. Mitchell groaned, before the chef grabbed him by the head dragged him into the kitchen. He hovered him over a deep fryer, trying to push his head in while Mitchell struggled, forcing himself against the chef's iron will. His nose nearly touched the boiling oil as the chef pushed down, his shoulder sleeve things tearing asunder from the sheer strength he was using to subdue the Mitchman. Mitchell finally broke free, sending the chef flying into a rack of pizza sauces. The sauce ridden beast of a man quickly jumped to his feet, picking up a shovel on the floor and swinging blindly at Mitchell. Mitchell backed out of the way, the chef shooting lasers out of his eyes and shit as Mitchell hid behind a table. He stood perfectly still as the chef searched for him like the velociraptor scene in Jurassic Park, performing some qigong. This chef was obviously beyond peak human, Mitchell understanding he needed to pull out the big guns or something. He jumped out of cover, taking a few center mass potshots at the chef. The bullets simply bounced off of his hard-as-diamond skin, as Diamond was Unbreakable, after all. As the chef was amusingly distracted by Mitchell's seeming ignorance, he was grabbed by the marine, grabbing his shovel with tachi-dori and impaling him with the shovel. He shoved the shovel inside a pizza oven like he was roasting marshmellows or something, the chef screeching in agony as the flames stole away his life. "ALRIGHT WHAT'S GOING ON IN HERE" yelled Gino, barging through the back and firing his Jubilee Prestige Tartaruga Gold all over the place. Mitchell ran out of the kitchen and jumped him like Wolverine or something, throwing him across the room and into the wall, jumping to said wall and pushing him into also said wall. Mitchell grabbed a shockroach out of a trashcan, the fat alien insect squirming around as he pointed it at Gino. "NO NOT A SHOCKAROACH, ANYTHING BUT THAT" Gino begged, Mitchell jabbing the insect in Gino's side for a few seconds, a few thousand volts sent through Gino's body. "WHERE'S THE DON?!" he screamed, headbutting Gino sixty times. "JESUS MAN YOU'RE GONNA GIVE ME A CONCUSSION" "SWEAR TO ME" he yelled, licking Gino's face like a dog happy to see its owner come home. "I DON'T KNOW! I HAVE ALZHEIMERS! AL DIED, LIKE, TWENTY YEARS AGO! I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER WHEN I HAD FOR LUNCH THIS AFTERNOON" Gino sobbed, Mitchell pushing the shockroach closer to his face, the alien's sharp stingers barely touching Gino's cheeks. "ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! HIS NAME'S COSIMO GALATI! HE'S WORKIN' WITH THE SPAGHETTI MAN OVER AT MURFREESBORO! HE'S GOT A MANSION OVER THERE AND EVERYTHING! YOU GOTTA BELIEVE ME!" Gino screamed, Mitchell gasping in shock and letting him hit the floor, the compact Italian man assuming a fetal position. "The Spaghetti Man?! It can't be..." Mitchell muttered, dread flowing over him as he realized what this meant. The Spaghetti Man was back, and probably more powerful than before. He let the shockroach scurry on back to it's trashcan, preparing to go out the back. "Oh, and I'm 93, fuckface." he said, turning around and bashing his head in with the bat. The Palermo Mansion, Murfreesboro "You heard what happened to old Gino?" asked security guard Kristopher 'Good Looking' Gascon to his best buddy, eating a few glazed donuts outside the mansion. "No, what happened?" asked Harry 'The Skinny' Villari. "Somebody broke in and shot up the place. They killed poor Chicci, and they landed Gino a trip to Mercy Hospital. Doc says his frontal lobe ain't workin' no more or somethin' like that. Me? I say it was Ma Gnucci. She's been gettin' real brave ever since her husband grew her limbs back." said Kristopher. "No way, Chicci? He was the mob's bestest boy! Can't believe the new don hooked him up with that old fuck. Shame." Harry said sadly, throwing his donut over the gate since he lost his appetite from the news. They heard someone yell "AH SHIT" from the distance, probably some poor bystander who got hit in the head by a flying donut. "lol" said Kristopher. BUT THEN A CRAZY MARINE BLEW THE GATE OPEN WITH THERMITE, DONUT GLAZE SAUCE OR WHATEVER ITS CALLED SMEARED ALL OVER THE SIDE OF HIS FACE WHILE HE SHOT AT EVERYBODY LIKE A LUNATIC "THIS GUY IS FUCKED" said Kristopher. "I'M CALLING THE POLICE" yelled Harry, the two running away and hiding in the bushes. "HE'S GOIN' JOHN WICK ON OUR ASSES" yelled Brody 'The Hump' Priddy, before getting his head blown off with Gino's jubilee. Mitchell ran around the outside of the mansion at 90 mph, headshotting mobsters before they could even react. "AHHHHHHHHH, I need a medic bag" cried Zallas, an evil clone of Nathan Steele who was working with the Palermos, who got shot in the knee by Mitchell. But then Zercy, an evil clone of Mercy from Overwatch, appeared through a cloud of smoke and healed Zallas's leg with her caduceus staff. "THAT'S NOT A MEDIC BAG" Zallas screeched, his rageful cries opening a green hellish portal above them. They were then grabbed by the NecroCloaker, hundreds of shadow cloakers pouring out of the portal like maggots. And then SWAT vans arrived, sending in revenants and possessed soldiers in tactical police armor and shit. GenSec vans crashed through the gates, dropping off imps decked in white camo armor and a few dozen skulldozer hell knights. Mitchell set up a thermal lance to the mansion's doors, before battle crying as he opened fire on the demon scum, defending the drill with his life. Iron liches, cyberdemons, and hell knights were no match for Mitchell's stolen shotgun of fury. As more and more demons fell to Mitchell's righteous bullets, Hell started amping up the heat. They sent in IMP Team 6, a team of bodacious imps, in a skelecopter. But these weren't your average bodacious imps. They were imps from Doom 64, aka the swolest fucks this side of the underworld. Mitchell froze in fear as he saw their ten inch super abbed selves jump out of the skelecopter, flexing their huge sweaty muscles and doing raunchy JoJo poses. "IMP TEAM 6, ROLL OUT! LET'S GRAB THIS GUY AND WRING EM' OUT INTO A CUP!" roared Captain Ultra Abs, firing his BFG-9000 at Mitchell. He jumped out of the way, the ball of plasma hitting and melting both the drill and the doors. "ah nuts" Ultra Abs said, before Mitchell threw a pheropod at him, coating his abs in a brown, sticky substance. Mitchell found the mansion's schematics on the Internet prior to the attack, and discovered it was built over an antlion nest.... As antlions burrowed out of the dirt and swarmed the demons, Mitchell stormed the mansion. He was met by the mobsters in time, who had time to prepare during the police assault, firing their tommyguns and combat shotguns at him. He shot his way through the main hall, heading for Casimo's room. "Sir, a crazy ass soldier just broke into the mansion! He's going HAM on our asses!" yelled Ashcurt 'The Security Captain' Vringshot, walking in on Cosimo snuggling with two cute snow leopard femboys and a bara harch while watching Princess Robot Bubblegum on his Samsung Electronics UN65MU7000 65-Inch 4K Ultra HD Smart LED TV whilst snorting crack. "WHAT? DOES HE HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM?!" Cosimo yelled, frontflipping off his king size bed and grabbing a rocket launcher off his wide ass weapons rack. "I diagnose him with cockroach." Mitchell flew down the mansion's halls, blasting mobsters in the face as blood splattered across the cold marble floors. He found himself in the kitchen, where a staff of three hundred highly trained chefs were preparing Cosimo's lunch, consisting of lobster soup with a side of breadsticks and a glass of espressino freddo. Mitchell slammed a red button on the wall next to him, closing the Emergency Culinary Blast Doors and cutting off the demonic/mobster assault. He took a moment to catch his breath, browsing the various soups produced by the chefs. He tried to taste some solyanka, his hand being slapped by some dude like that scene from the first Spider-Man movie. Mitchell looked over to the source of the slap, his eyes going wide as they met with a pair of black glasses. "Miss me?" the blind chef smirked, before roundhouse kicking him into a shelf of pots and pans with his new robotic leg. The chef cracked his new metal knuckles, towering over Mitchell. The marine scrambled to pull out his dark energy ammo and pop it into his desert eagle, firing center mass at the chef. He wasn't doing this shit again. However, the dark energy balls simply bounced off of the chef's body, his skin hardening and turning pitch black as each ball hit him, the energy balls ricocheting off the walls and disintegrating a bunch of the other chefs. "What the fuck?" he muttered, looking down at his gun in shock. He saw dark energy take down striders and entire Citadels. There's no way he could've survived tha- "Nanomachines, son." the chef said, pulling Mitchell up by the collar. "Pretty fancy, ain't it? They harden in response to physical trauma, practically invincible, designed to defend against Combine weaponry.... They were designed for black operations into Asia, but I was outfitted with a few of em' when old Cosimo found his best chef cookin' in a pizza oven." the chef chuckled, flexing his nanomanchined biceps before slamming Mitchell into the blast doors. Mitchell squawked like a seagull as his back collided with the blast door, a sharp pain traveling up his spine. Little did he know that this embarrassing squawk would come to favor him in this battle, as Jeremy Elbertson, infamous streamer who died to Pinwheel and killed Santa on stream, mass meme murderer, dictator, CEO of the Jerma Wrestling Federation, and seagull vet broke the wall down with a sledgehammer because he lived in the walls. "GET AWAY FROM THAT SEAGULL YOU FIEND" Jeremy yelled, hitting the chef in the back with this sledgehammer. The chef dropped Mitchell, the sledgehammer's impact causing the skin around it to briefly harden, swerving around and karate chopping Jeremy. Jeremy was flung across the room because of the chef's enhanced superhuman strength, crashing into a pot of coffee, cheetos and chicken. Jeremy soon jumped to his feet, pulling out a blue baseball bat and going at em'. The chef grabbed a pair of tongs, the two having a grand sword fight as Mitchell watched in awe, Jeremy jumping on top of a table to gain the higher ground. "YOU'RE STEPPING IN MY LOBSTER SOUP" screamed Mr. Chefly Cheff, biting on Jeremy's leg like a piranha and making him fall over, dropping his bat. After he got up, defenseless, he was chased by the blind chef with a bunch of tongs. "HE'S CHASING ME WITH DEADPOOL" Jeremy yelled as the chef mercilessly chased him around the room like the intro of What's New, Scooby Doo? or something, Mitchell getting to his feet to help his new ally. He grabbed a frosting spatula, taping it around his jubilee's barrel with flex tape to act as a bayonet. He charged at the chef, preparing to bakestaybe this big bitch. However, the chef sensed the assassination attempt with his pre-cognitive nanosenses, backslapping him with the force of 50 megatons, sending him flying straight back into the blast doors, leaving a big ass dent. Jeremy gasped, his face crumpling up in rage, deeply disgusted by the blatant mistreatment of what he thought was a seagull. His eyes glowed blue, pulling out two light guns and twirling them around his fingers like a badass Western protagonist. The lighting in the room turned red, Jeremy cracking his neck as the DOOM soundtrack played through his iPod. Full volume. "You fuck with the bee, you get the stinger." JEX devilishly grinned, unleashing a barrage of laser beams with his light guns, each shot hitting it's mark. The chef grunted as his skin was seared by the masterful marksmen, charging him like an enraged animal. JEX swayed to the side, the chef hitting a stove and causing an avalanche of boiling hot fabric of the universe soup to pour over him. His entire body turned pitch black as the soup burned into his flesh, implanting entire universes into his skin as it seeped deeply inside his meat, wailing in agony as JEX kept blasting his ass. The chef roared, shaking the soup off of him like a dog as he learned to ignore the incomprehensible pain. He tore a thick, wide metal pipe off the wall, bending and twisting it to resemble a battle axe. JEX twirled his guns to his lips, blowing the smoke away from their barrels, before discarding them to the floor and grabbing another set from under his Aqua Man shirt. "I'll have to warn you; you will be flashed." JEX taunted, the two charging towards each other as the battle climaxed. Mitchell sneaked his way through the room, carefully shutting the door as he sighed deeply, finding himself in the Actual Hall. Where Cosimo's room was. The chef was then thrown out the door, colliding with Mitchell as they both flew into a wall. "You wish you could match up to my skill. It's just not gonna happen." JEX said, stepping out of the smoking kitchen, having finally defeated the blind chef. Mitchell threw the chef's unconscious body off of his, doing a thumbs up at JEX before he Naruto ran away. He ran into some more mobsters as he ran down the hallway, making quick use of them with his jubilee and his lightning fast reflexes. "WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! YOU COME INTO MY CITY, YOU COME INTO MY MANSION, KILL MY MEN, AND THINK YOU CAN TAKE ME ON?! I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, CAZZONE!" Cosimo yelled over the intercom, having seen Mitchell's massacre through his TV. "Put a sock in it." Mitchell groaned, loading some shells into his jubilee as he traversed the mansion. "NO YOU" Cosimo screeched, slamming a button on his coffee table that unleashed all the experiments from his FEV lab. Mitchell stopped in his tracks, hearing faint roars from behind. He slowly turned around, aiming at the direction of the noises.... before a bunch of big green people came around the corner, wielding guns and demon corpses they found from the Inactual Hall. "oh fuck" Mitchell yipped, Jeremy being trampled by the army of super mutants as Mitchell rushed through the halls. He ran straight past the local mobsters, who opened fire at the mutants before they, too, were trampled. Mitchell came across a rather large vault, reading "spider demon seaweed supply", but this was a dead end. The enraged mutants were on his tail, Mitchell mustering all the strength in him to focus and not panic. He then saw a weird gargoyle sitting very closely above the vault for whatever reason, and decided to use this strange design choice to his advantage, climbing up the vault and hugging the underside of the statue just before the mutants all crashed through the vault and starting tearing shit up. That takes care of that problem. "YOU FUCKS! YOU STUPID GREEN FUCKING FUCK! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY YOU JUST WASTED?! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!" Cosimo yelled over the intercom, as Mitchell dropped down when the coast was clear. He then saw a rather suspicious staircase to his right, climbing up that shit and walking the rest of the way up. It lead to a door being guarded by a big ol' mobster. "Vaffanculo a chi t'è morto." said the swole mobster in skulldozer armor wielding a laser RCW, running down the stairs. His reinforced faceplate took the bullets Mitchell was showering it in. He managed to make it fall off, but the skulldozer punched him in the face before he could break the glass. The sheer weight of his vivinite armor made his tumble over, nearly falling off the staircase, before Shrek flew in and helped Mitchell up during his evening stroll. "Thanks, Shrek." Mitchell said, Shrek nodding and flying through the ceiling. Mitchell twirled his gun around Evil Dead-style, blowing a hole through the bulldozer's face plate. The bullet penetrated the glass dome and his skull, the behemoth falling over. Mitchell grabbed his rifle and kicked the door down, killing the three Z-Sec guards inside with three well placed lasers. He raided the room, tying down the two femboy leopards (and buff spider) to slow the demons down. "Cosimo, where you at?" asked Mitchell, searching the room for the mob boss, before he suddenly fell from the ceiling, landing in front of him. "YOU FUCK WITH THE BEE, YOU GET THE STINGER!" Cosimo yelled, launching a rocket at Mitchell with his FIM-92. Mitchell caught the rocket with his teeth, spitting it out and firing at Cosimo, who elegantly dodged each laser with infinite finesse. Mitchell pulled out his desert eagle while Cosimo was distracted by theatrically dancing around the bullets, shooting him in the leg. "Gah, shit! Mr. 17, sprecare questo arrogante figlio di puttana!" Cosimo yelled, clutching his leg in pain, a suited bald guy falling from the ceiling, landing in front of Mitchell and knocking the RCW out of his hands. "I can't believe you've done this" Mitchell said, feeling betrayed from the stranger knocking the gun out of his hands. They had just met, and this was the treatment he was getting? Agent 17 could've at least tried to get to know him, instead of just mindlessly listening to his boss, but whatever. Mitchell whipped out his big ol' fists and threw a punch at 17, the cloned assassin grabbing his fist and biting on it like it was a baloney sandwich. Mitchell cried out in agony, 17's shiny teeth sinking deep into his meat. 17 then poked Mitchell's left eye, before throwing him over and shooting him several times with his silenced silverballers. "You fucked up my bulletproof jacket" Mitchell growled, jumping to his feet and throwing another, yet much more sophisticated, punch at the assassin. 17 did some juji nage shit and threw him over again, jumping on him and attempting to choke him out with his fiber wire. Mitchell managed to bite the wire out of his hands, slurping it up like spaghetti and swallowing it whole. 17 took a moment to process what the fuck just happened, giving Mitchell time to headbutt him and knee em' in the crotch at the same time, instantly knocking the poor lad out cold. Mitchell pushed 17's unconscious body off of his, thankful that he was finally able to kill Cosimo and get this over with. But then the Hostage Rescue Team burst through the windows. "HOSTAGE RESCUE TEAM" roared Captain Hostage Rescue Team of the Hostage Rescue Team, HRT units absolutely swamping the room. Mitchell was instantly overwhelmed by the sheer number of hostage rescue team units, and started to regret taking those leopards (and spider) hostage. He was stuck defending the hostages by the couch, taking potshots at them with Agent 17's silverballers as hundreds of bullets flew past him, throwing the occasional fragmentation grenade into the swarm of FBI hostage rescue bees. "This AO is a fucking warzone!" yelled HRT-87878, before tripping over HRT-1727271's freshly killed corpse. "MY KNEE" he cried, his knee completely caved in. Looked like somebody took a sledgehammer to the poor lad instead of the normal rubber hammer. Zercy, who was outside treating the shadow cloakers injured by Mitchell, heard the poor officer's cries of agony. She stabbed a healing stick into her current patient's knee, before climbing up the mansion like Spider-Man to administer her motherly yet sinister treatment. She climbed in through one of the broken windows, crawling through the sea of corpses and ammo shells to find the patient in need. But then Crazy Mass Murderer Arkhamverse Batman from Earth-777242777-1 jumped through the window, punching an HRT unit and starting up a spicy combo, punching person after person after person as he flew across the room at incredible speeds. Within a few minutes, all 652 HRT units were knocked out, Batman going across the room and shooting each one in the head because he was Crazy Mass Murderer Arkhamverse Batman. Zercy ignored this tomfoolery and found HRT-87878, preparing to set the leg as she comforted the mentally broken cop dude. After his murder spree was over, Crazy Mass Murderer Arkhamverse Batman charged at Zercy, preparing to strangle her like he's done so many times before. Zercy turned straight the fuck around and snapped Crazy Mass Murderer Arkhamverse Batman's neck, his heavy ass corpse hitting the floor and leaving a dent in the marble tile. She went back to treating her patient, lathering healing juice all over his destroyed knee as Zallas walked in with a stretcher. "LOOKS LIKE THAT GUY NEEDS A MEDIC BAG" Zallas demonically laughed in G Major, helping lift the dude onto the stretcher, exiting the mansion through the window to hopefully never be seen again. Mitchell got up from his couch fort, realizing the assault had ended. While he had been fighting, however, Cosimo was busy. He had slapped a few patches of venom onto his arm, grabbed his M134D, and got into a suit of X-01 power armor. He was now big, bulky, and power armored. "Who's the badass now, chicken dick?!" asked Cosimo, laughing as his minigun revved up. Mitchell quickly grabbed Batman's corpse, using it as a meatshield as they were assaulted by bullets. Luckily, Batman's armor took most of the damage, so much, in fact, that it would make Phil Swift blush in jealously. When the minigun stopped spitting out bullets, Mitchell threw the body at Cosimo, making him stumble backwards as Mitchell grabbed a Compact-5 from a dead HRT unit and unloaded it into his helmet, it soon breaking apart. "Shit!" Cosimo hissed, jabbing at Mitchell with the minigun's barrel. Mitchell managed to dodge the big, thick metal muzzle, jumping onto the minigun like an anime character and delivering Cosimo a blow to the face with his knee. The buff Italian fell over, unable to get back up due to his weight. Mitchell straddled him, repeatedly punching him in the face. "WHY DID THE SPAGHETTI MAN JOIN YOU" asked Mitchell, punching the dying mob boss in the nose. "WHAT-WHAT SPAGHETTI MAN? ARE YOU FUCKIN' DELUSIONAL? HE'S A MYTH! A FOKIN' MYT-" Cosimo yelled, Mitchell pulling the dude's front teeth out with his bare fingers. "FUCK JESUS WHY HE OKAY STOP I'LL TALK" Cosimo begged, Mitchell throwing the teeth aside and listening extra closely. "HE DIDNT I MEAN WELL HE DID ITS JUST THAT HE JOINED THE DEMONS AND THEN HE JOINED ME BECAUSE HE WAS BORED AND WANTED TO SMUGGLE DRUGS" Cosimo sobbed. Mitchell stared at Cosimo in shock, his entire world crashing down around him. The Spaghetti Man.... was working with the Devil himself. He then shot Cosimo in the forehead as he violently begged for mercy. He got off of Cosimo's wild ride, looking over the utterly defiled room. Blood, guts, hostage rescue team corpses, Agent 17's unconscious body, and just general carnage were strewn about the place. He sighed, and decided to make some good of this assassination. Mitchell grabbed a random shopping cart from Cosimo's shopping cart collection, collecting various things to expand the rebellion's upcoming arsenal. A little midnight shopping, you might say. He dropped in Cosimo's M134D, FIM-92, and power armor pieces, Crazy Mass Murderer Arkhamverse Batman's corpse (his armor and gadgets would probably prove useful), the RCW he lost earlier, and a bunch of Compact-5s from dead HRT units. He then set his sights for the more miscellaneous items to quench his kleptomania, grabbing a framed Skull of a Skeleton with Burning Cigarette painting that somehow wasn't covered in blood, and his big ass TV. He also grabbed Cosimo's vintage GameSphere as a gift for Poopertron, before tying the shopping cart around his body with Flex Tape (standard issue equipment for HECU marines) for easier transportation. He walked out of the room, traversing his way through the corpse ridden mansion. He was almost through the door when he was attacked by a bunch Black Ops assassins, for two reasons; to cover up the event in case it encourages rebellion, and to silence knowledge of the Skull of a Skeleton with Burning Cigarette painting that somehow wasn't covered in blood. "WHY" Mitchell cried, pulling out his silverballers and murdering some CIA agents. There were only thirty of them, so he quickly defeated them with his magnificent aim and his rather sophisticated martial arts. But then the final boss arrived, a muscular 11 ft. tall female assassin with roughly the same proportions as Killer Croc from Batman: Arkham Asylum, because I'm bad at describing things. "I am Galina Avtonoma, infamous Russian government agent who survived the Resonance Cascade. You, tiny baby man? You will die from my fists of fury. Prepare for pain." she said, cracking her huge ass knuckles. Mitchell panicked, as he had Arkhamcrophobia, the deathly fear of people with the same proportions as Killer Croc from Arkham Asylum, searching for some kind of bargaining chip. Galina began stomping towards him, Mitchell rummaging through the house like a crazed lunatic, before finding a bookcase full of movie novelizations, pulling out Shrek 2: The Movie Novel. "JOIN MY REBELLION AGAINST SATAN AND SPARE MY LIFE AND I'LL GIVE YOU THIS NOVELIZATION OF A CLASSIC ANIMATED CHILDREN'S FILM BASED OFF OF TRUE EVENTS" Mitchell begged, getting on his knees. "Hah, your pathetic beggings get you nowhere, baby man. Besides, I liked Shrek 3 better." "BU-what? Shrek 3 fucking sucked" Mitchell said, absolutely astonished. "It is more a guilty pleasure film, nothing more. I enjoyed Arthur's presence. Also, time to die." she said, preparing to snap Mitchell's necc. "BUT WAIT THE SPAGHETTI MAN JOINED THE DEMONS" "The Spaghetti Man?!" she gasped, stumbling backwards as the news hit her like a train. "It can't be! The Spaghetti Man... My grandmother told me legends of when Spaghetti Man ate Russian people en masse, and how she survived his carefully orchestrated consumption sessions..." Galina said, clenching her fist all dramatic anime-like. ".... Fine. I will join your little rebellion, but only because I can no longer support the CIA in good faith. I hope you have what it takes to truly defeat the Spaghetti Man, Mr. Baby Man, for the Russian people are counting on you." she said, crossing her arms as Mitchell sighed in relief. I used a few names from Fantasy Name Generators for some of the mobsters 'DNR Breaking News: Shooting at Palermos Mansion' September 17, 2014 At 3:30 P.M, an unidentified shooter attacked the historic Palermos Mansion in Tennessee, Murfreesboro. The shooter, not yet identified by authorities, apparently melting through the estate's entrance using a deadly chemical weapon. Mr. Cosimo Galati, charitable business man, open supporter of the Occupation, and owner of the estate was murdered by the suspect when he barged into his room, interrupting a business meeting with Denodula Subtlepaws and his brother, Strawberry Subtlepaws. You may know them as Earth's first legally married incestual anthropomorphic gay couple. The shooter overpowered Cosimo's body guard, shot Cosimo in the head, and took the couple hostage. Eyewitness reports also show the shooter working with an accomplice, described as a short white male in an Aqua Man t-shirt, who shockingly resembled Oscorp CEO Norman Osborn. Strawberry apparently sustained heavy psychological trauma from being held hostage, along with the HRT units sent to rescue him before murdered before his very eyes, and is currently taking therapy sessions. Local social media outlets have been buzzing with #JusticeForSubtlepaws, demanding the arrest of the suspects involved. A rather muscular harch named Klirrathash Kluephu was also taken hostage, apparently. An estimated 16,519 died during the attack, including including thirty weird shadowy cloaker people, a hundred and fifty seven SWAT officers, one hundred and seventy GenSec dudes, members Sweaty Johnson and Big Bulge Burrito Boy of IMP Team 6, six thousand antlions, eighty six mobsters, four chefs, two Z-Sec security guards, ten thousand Hostage Rescue Team units, thirty CIA agents who were there purely by coincidence, and Cosimo Galati himself. There are also seven missing persons according to metropolice, one notable example being CIA agent Galina Avtonoma. The Demonic Metropolitan Police Department of Necronessee has declared a manhunt for the suspect, and has promised citizens that they will be brought to injustice. Dare Not Linger After the assassination on Casimo Galati, Galina and Mitchell walked all the way back to Nashville from Murfreesboro, since it apparently wasn't easy to drive a car as neither an 11 ft. person or a guy with a shopping cart attached to his body. Mitchell was in handcuffs, Galina's hand on his shoulder, fooling the demonic metropolice into believing he was being detained. They had until their next mission before she was declared to be a traitor and not a missing CIA agent, anyway. They arrived at the mansion after a few hours of walking, the sun being all shiny and shit. Poopertron was outside the mansion, trading Shrek 2 cards with Ma Gnucci's 179 children, who were mostly in their 20-30's. So not technically children, but it's still grammatically correct to call them children because they're her offspring. Life is pain. Galina and Mitchell strolled around the corner, the 179 dudes screaming in fear and hiding in a bush, as arkhamcrophobia was common in the Gnucci family. "MaMA MIA" Poopertron screamed, cowering in fear because her height reminded him of when the Remnant invaded Earth-817279, which was solely inhabited by Killer Crocs, and enslaved the Killian race and then stationed them in Earth-420. He was stationed with Mitchell on the Cheese Seneese CR70 corvette when they first deployed, the corvette delivering a cache of rations to the planet-in-poverty Snorglag. The fleet of corvettes and starships were soon hit with headcrab shells, an even larger fleet of Combine Remnant ships uncloaking and opening fire on the fleet. It was an absolute bloodbath, thousands dying as transkillian Overwatch soldiers beamed onto the Cheese Seneese, ruthlessly tearing people apart with no regard for whatever. Poopertron and his father fought them all they could, but the crocs were too strong, and half of the fleet was destroyed in mere minutes. However, two saviors suddenly arrived, voring all the killians alive. They were Killer Croc from Earth-111157, in which only Suicide Squad #20 happened, and Killer Croc from Earth-3717188, in which only the part where Killer Croc was sitting in the sewer in Suicide Squad #20 happened. Sick of being trapped in a time loop, they spent millennia self-teaching themselves how to travel through universes, becoming superheroes of the Lavender Sea. The Resistance praised them as heroes, the Remnant retreating out of the Galactic Pale to fight another day. "Um, hello?" Galina asked, rubbing the back of her neck as she glared down at the utterly terrified chef guy. Poopertron suddenly snapped out of it, reciting the entirety of Divi Ludovici Marchionis Mantuae somnium to calm himself, praying to Renenutet and begging her to grant him emotional nourishment. "WHO THE FUCK WHY WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN YOU ASSHOLE PEPPERONI" asked Pizzaroni, absolutely furious. "WoAh, I was just eating some steak and cheese sandwiches and I got in a fight and this person saved my life, jeez" Mitchell lied. "OH SURE YOU DID, IT'S ALWAYS THE SANDWICHES. You always, ALWAYS SAY THAT, BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? I like sandwiches so I think I'm gonna go have one, glad you're back dad" Pizzaroni said, hugging Mitchell before retreating into the mansion. Galina sighed, lazily dropping the taxi cab she was carrying beside her. "Hey, uh, handcuffs?" Mitchell said, gesturing his cuffed hands towards Galina. Galina sighed again, laser beams shooting out of his eyes and melting the cuffs. "ayyyyy thanks my stuffy tutu" he said, snapping finger guns like Emo Spider-Man. "your what" "Carbonadium" Mitchell said, before bolting after the mansion. Galina took a moment to process this, before heading for the mansion herself. Unfortunately, the door was much too small for somebody roughly the same size as Killer Croc from Arkham Asylum. "Stupid tiny door, designed for tiny babies..." Galina groaned, before getting frustrated and just Stand Crying a Killer Croc-sized hole in the wall, entering the mansion. "HOLY FUCK IT'S A PERSON ROUGHLY THE SIZE OF KILLER CROC" yelled Tony "Fat Thorax" Gnucci, fleeing the scene as everybody panicked and hid under the potted plants. "yo everybody, it's alright, she's with me, we're tight as bark on a tree" Mitchell said, t-posing his way in to establish dominance. Everybody then calmed down, saying "oh" and apologizing to Galina, before going back to their usual schedule. Later, in Mitchell's room Mitchell sat at the edge of his bed, staring down at the wooden floor. He was thinking about some shit. Or should I say, some spaghetti shit. Indeed, ever since the news of the Spaghetti Man broke out, something inside of Mitchell broke, too. To learn that such a malevolent force could be at large, just as his son begins to wage war on his father... It made his bones rumble with fear and uncertainty. And dread. And various, other bad fuelings. I mean feelings. Mitchell glared at his old 90's computer on the desk beside him, wondering if he should write an essay on the Spaghetti Man to prepare Poopertron for the oncoming storm. He agreed with himself, and then jumped all over the place like Sportacus and landed straight in his chair, karate chopping the button that turns the computer on and turning the computer on. He cracked his knuckles, typing faster than the Earth spins during his epic gamer moment. He went to the search bar and typed in "Spaghetti Man" in an attosecond, fucking SLAMMING the shift button. There were no results. "That can't be right..." he muttered, checking to see if he misspelled anything. Perhaps the archives were incomplete? Spaghetti Man. He open mouthedly stared at the screen for a few seconds, before realizing his mistake. The computer was using Bing. He chuckled to himself as he went to change the search engine to Googwattle, typing Spaghetti Man back in. Two results. An article about some jazz weirdo and a recipe for yahnista macaronia. Fuckshoes. Fuck-knuckles. Big oof. He then proceeded to search "Spaghetti Men", the alias the Spaghetti Man used when he was a gay porn star in the 80's. One result. A veddit post. "Does anybody remember that time the Spaghetti Men murdered Tom Jone's husband?", on v/remembrance. To his shock, the OP was ridiculed and made fun of by the replies, having over a thousand downvotes. The thread was brigaded by two hundred other subs, including v/oldpeople, who started screaming and throwing shit everywhere (in real life) until the admins arrived and called 911 on them. He was about to reply, until he saw that the thread was two years old. Also, I didn't realize that this is basically just a scene from Steins;Gate until I finished writing it. Meanwhile Mitchell was in the kitchen, stirring some spaghetti sauce as he wore his pink 'kiss the chef' apron over top his vest. He was using the same recipe he found during his hunt for the Spaghetti Men, since it reminded him of the post-Resonance Cascade poverty that killed thousands of American citizens. Poopertron was busy printing counterfeit Shrek 2 cards, unaware of the damage he could do the Shrek 2 trading card economy, and anxiously waiting for Papa Mitchell's noodle surprise. He was also playing Dogful House with his tiny third arm that grew just above his ass last week. Mitchell then looked over his shoulder, seeing Poopertron producing counterfeit Shrek 2 cards at the dinner table, taking this opportunity to crawl around on all fours, seeking out Galina. "Pssst. Galina, need to talk to you." he whispered, upon finding her. She jumped at the spooky Mitchell, hiding her yuri mangas. "W-what for?" she asked, utterly embarrassed. "i have come across news of the spaghetti man, come" said Mitchell, slithering down to the basement like a snake. Galina hesitantly followed, carrying a pair of 3D printed Minecraft shears in case shit hit the fan. Meanwhile, in the Mitchmerlair "I looked everywhere. It's gone, all of it. Not a shred of evidencd that the Spaghetti Man ever even existed." Mitchell said, pacing back and forth as he did the thinking emoji gesture. "Perhaps the demons are suppressing knowledge to leave rebellions in the dark?" suggested Galina, who was sitting on a crate. "It gets weirder. Most people don't even remember it. I found a Veddit post from 2012 of a guy who said he remembers it, but everyone thought he was a troll." "But it wasn't that long ago! If people remember the Ten Days, surely they would remember horrific mass genocide from same time period?" Galina said. "Exactly. But why do we remember?" asked Mitchell, leaning onto the table. ".... Hm. Perhaps it is intentional. Perhaps they want us to find out. Maybe it is a trap?" Galina said. "Yes, maybe. Possibly so." said Mitchell, nodding his head in sophisticated thought. "Are we the only two, though? Does Poopertron remember?" "The Spaghetti Crisis was before Tron's time, so he wouldn't know anything about it, thank god..." he said, whipping his hair around as if it were a weapon, Galina staring at this downright deranged display before saying stuff. "You will not tell him? It may to criticial to our mission, Mitchell. What if he has to face him?" "He's my son, you stupid European eel!" Mitchell screamed, saliva hitting her face like that scene from Shrek. After a long, dreaded silence, Mitchell collapsed onto a mangy old couch, staring at the floor. "Sorry, uh... He-he already has too much going on, with his real dad and... He doesn't need to know this, okay?" he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he spoke. "I understand. I did not tell my daughter of the impending Resonance Cascade before I was sent to Black Mesa.... I-I went too far. I'm sorry. But then a deformed Spider-Man grew out of the ground, ancient runes and satanic symbols etched onto the being's flesh as it cried out in agony. This was a common species of fungus in Hell, brought over to Earth during the invasion. "Are yoU MY DADDY?!" it asked, tears running down its mask as it helplessly clawed at Mitchell's pants like a scared neko. "aaaaaaa" Mitchell yelled, slamming the Spider-Fungi's head onto the table, killing it instantly after the steel table shattered the mushroom's frail skull. The blood stain marked out an interesting location... The heart of Nashville. Mitchell approached the stain, his eyes widening. "Of course... How couldn't I have seen it?" "what" asked Galina. "The Gore Tower! Being so big, it's possible they have some sort of mind erasing technology! Maybe it's sending out a frequency, maybe it's black magic, maybe it's spilling mind erasing mind erase juice in the water! It's the only explanation!" he said, slamming his hands down on the table like a madman in thought. "YOU'RE A GENIUS, MR. DEAD LETTUCE" said Mitchell, kissing the back of the fungi's fractured skull. "You're gonna be my new buddy. My new friend. My new buddy friend for whenever I'm lonely and want to go to the basement..." Mitchell said, hugging the fungi corpse like a deranged madman. Galina gulped, prepared to put him out of his misery with her shears, before Papa Seno walked in and injected some anti-madman juice into Mitchell's neck. That oughta fix it. "Thanks, Papa Seno. We can always count on you, can't we?" said Mitchell, patting Papa's shoulder. "Heehee, yes you could. I'm gonna eat some of the tuna that's been aging in my wine cellar since my grandparents died in 1908." he said, leaving the basement. Mitchell then realized he was hungry, opting to taste test that spaghetti from earlier. "Fuck, poverty spaghetti is good..." said Mitchell, chowing down on some noodle he stuffed deep down his throat to save for later, regurgitating it up into his mouth and using his tongue to taste every inch of the noodles, moaning deeply as he closed his eyes. Meanwhile, at the Spaghetti Man's lair The Spaghetti Man seductively giggled as he looked through his giant security TV, seeing Mitchell plan the attack on the Gore Tower with Galina. "Oh, how delightful... He figured it out already! You know, Lushy, I didn't expect your little anticitizen to be this good a leader. Little bit over my paygrade, don't you think?" the Spaghetti Man teased, his ear-to-ear smile refusing to not be a smile. It was pretty spooky. "Here I was, thinking the murder would be payment for you enough. Do you know what happens to greedy souls in Hell?" Satan said, through one of the monitors on the Spaghetti Man's epic gaming setup. The Spaghetti Man giggled a little. Whether he was nervous or amused was unclear, and that scared Satan. Still, he was a valuable asset, and so was Earth. He couldn't afford to lose this. "Empty threats won't get you anywhere, Your Highness." his smile dropped. "Either way, the Gore Tower is protected. Apparently, a good security system is much better than shitty demonic runes and superstitious shrines. They aren't getting in." he said, his voice turning cold and calculated within an instant. "Of course, if actually they try to pull off their little scheme... I have a few backups on standby." the Spaghetti Man said, swerving his chair over to the right, glaring at the glass containment chamber built into the wall. Hundreds of Mysterios from all across the multiverse were imprisoned there, fruitlessly banging on the glass and begging for mercy, the Spaghetti Man's jagged finger teasingly hovering above the "spray that turns them into Gore Towers" button. The Italian Mitchell: End of Time Seattle, 2023 The Thirteenth Doctor disliked weaponry.... But i don't mean feelings. Mitchell was instantly overwhelmed by the sheer number of hostage rescue team units sent to rescue him, but decided against it when they got to the sandwich store. Mitchell grabbed a shockroach from his purse as he looked toward the hooded italian Mitchell, Poopertron sobbing as Deniz Yahnista Ildiz begins to take up the Punjab from Mitchell's schematic collection. She was especially protective of webs on Mitchell and he knew putting marshmellows or something on his ass was his last defense. Arno Stark potshots at Zercy, preparing to strangle her like he was roasting marshmellows. Things were looking grim. This incarnation of the Doctor believed in hope and shit, but this was the one collapsing moment of her friends. Mitchell cried out at Deniz, the Doctor cryptically screaming to her companion Pizza Overwatch to find the TARDIS. Galina hesitantly fuckin with the bee boys, using the spaghetti sauce like maggots tearing into their lobster butts. Poopertron was busy with burning Deniz's safety doormats, leaving v lobster soup around the neighbah'ood. Hundreds of Mysterios from Arkham Asylum arrived with burning hatred of guns, the Doctor initially confused but direct. SCP-2117 hovered overhead, dropping lasers out at Zercy and Deniz. The Hooded Italian Michell, however, said gravely "my average bodacious ovahloawds came onto my face", climbing up the Space Needle. Kristopher Technology had a dead italian male from Earth-777242777, but everyone thought he was just fried pickles. Arno Stark abbed about the place, falling into a nearby man seductively. He grabbed his ass knuckles and shit up his skin. Poopertron shot Zercy in the head with his M249, the Doctor roaring in italian. Mitchell said sadly screaming dogful universes simultaneously attaching therapy sessions... Something's "you". Suddenly Italian Mitchell threw the Thirteenth Doctor off the walls, Mitchell mustering his tongue to taste rebellions, and saved the Doctor with his Kamov Ka-27. Mitchell shot Italian Mitchell in the spaghetti, killing his ass. Arno Stark potshots into his man, snapping Deniz's neck. The Doctor kissed Mitchell's flesh, traveling back to 2014 in the TARDIS. Category:Blog posts Category:Pizzaroni V series